


Five Things Will And Deanna (Never) Did On Betazed

by Leyenn



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: BDSM, Deep Throating, F/M, Pain, Past Relationship(s), Pegging, Porn Battle, Pre-Canon, Safewords, Telepathic Sex, Telepathy, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-07
Updated: 2011-08-07
Packaged: 2017-10-22 07:50:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/235807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leyenn/pseuds/Leyenn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will really likes sex, Deanna has no inhibitions to speak of, and they spent two years together before he left Betazed for good. You can get up to a lot in two years, on a planet where anything consensual goes. For the Porn Battle XII, <i>Betazed</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Things Will And Deanna (Never) Did On Betazed

**1.**

They're in bed, the lights on and a breeze drifting through the wide open windows, having sex - very pleasant, but ultimately fairly standard sex - after a hard day of thesis-writing for her and a long, boring double shift for him. All that is thankfully forgotten and now he's sprawled out naked with Deanna's mouth around his cock, his fingers absently stroking her shoulder blade, hers curled lightly around his thigh and her fingernails a light pressure on his skin.

And then without any warning Deanna changes the angle just a little more than usual, and suddenly he's groaning, _growling_ , as she lets his entire length slide, slowly but smoothly, down her throat. He's not expecting it at all and he's never had anyone do it before - it feels incredible, hot and tight, so _tight_ \- and he can't help bucking his hips and threads his fingers into her hair, fisting the other hand into the sheets and screwing his eyes shut as he tries not to just fuck into her mouth, because _god_. " _Fuck_ , oh god, Deanna..."

She doesn't say anything, of course, but he can feel her in his head: that same quiet relaxation just like hanging from a tree branch, overlaid by a hot, feline smile. She's inordinately proud of herself, damn her, and he wants to just - he's never been more desperate to move and _not_ move and he's failing at the latter, fumbling for an apology in his head even as he thrusts up again. _Sorry, god, I'm sorry - god, Deanna, that feels so good, please..._

His own throat feels hot and his fingers hurt where he's twisted them in the sheets; then her hands grip his hips and push him back down against the bed, and he lets out a rough, ragged breath, trying to relax into her hands and her mouth and she has him down her _throat.._.

Breathing hard, he can just about manage to stay still: his reward is a gentle caress inside his head, a wordless but warm command to stay like that, if he can - and then she slowly starts to move again, up and down, and he can feel the back of her throat against the head of his cock with every slow, steady bob of her head, feel her tongue against the length of him and her mouth around him, moving faster -

And then she _swallows_ and he can feel it around the head of his cock, like she's actually swallowing him down, all of him, and he tightens his fingers in her hair, grunts and yells and thrusts - _god, sorry, I'm sorry I oh fuck fuck Deanna imzadi -_ and comes harder than he's ever come in his entire damned fucking _life_ , right down her throat.

The feeling of her carefully pulling back, the soft lick of her tongue across the head of his cock, makes him moan: he feels absolutely boneless, more than a bit fuzzy around the edges - and Deanna, radiating pride and satisfaction, just looks up at him and wickedly licks her lips.

"You could have _warned_ me," he growls out, as she kisses her way back up his chest and settles down, equally naked, on top of him. Deanna just laughs and kisses him, hot and open and messy and tasting of him.

  


*

  


 **2.**

Talking comfortably whilst naked and wrapped around each other is, to Deanna, one of the best and most unexpected benefits of their relationship. Somehow she and Will have developed a strange kind of shared attachment to that night she took him to Lake Medara, and now when they need to really talk, she only feels like she's being completely honest if they're naked and touching.

It isn't always about sex; it isn't always not, either.

Will is playing with her hair, trying to see if he can braid a few strands with only one hand, the other trapped as it is under her waist. "How can you have studied psychology for - how many years -"

 _Five,_ she thinks, in the breath between his question and -

"- and not have come across safewords?"

"Psychology is about a lot more than sexuality," she reminds him, trailing her fingers through his chest hair. "And it isn't as if the concept has a lot of use among telepaths."

"But you do understand the concept."

"Yes." She read the text he recommended, from Earth. It was, she's willing to admit, very enlightening, though not entirely applicable, whether or not he realises - or believes - it.

"And?"

"And?"

He looks up from her hair and though he's not quite rolling his eyes, the sense of it is in his head, and to her it's much the same thing. She smiles, taking pity on him, and moves a little on the bed to get closer. Will's skin is slightly cooler to the touch than a Betazoid, usually, and she likes the feel of him just pressed against her like this, his legs wrapped around hers and her breasts against his chest. She rubs her foot against his calf. "Do you want one?"

"I don't know." He gives up and winds a curl of her hair around his finger instead.

"You do know," she says, softer. It's not often he tries to hide from her. She understands why, but she doesn't have to like it, or tolerate it. _Imzadi._

He sighs. For a moment he's still silent; she waits, and then he kisses her forehead, keeping his lips there as he admits what's bothering him, finally. "I'd hate myself if I did something you didn't want and didn't realise it."

"I think you'd realise it," she says.

"The only way to find that out is to do it."

She weighs that up. He has a point.

 _Catarin,_ she says, finally, conjuring him an image of her birthplace to file away alongside the word. _But you'll know. I promise you. And so will I._ She reaches up and runs her fingers through his hair. "But choose something, if you like."

Will smiles, and kisses her.

  


*

  


 **3.**

He hasn't done this in a long time, and he's never done it with a woman, which he didn't think would make it so different, but it does; or maybe it's just doing it with Deanna, because everything is different with her. Everything is _better_ with her, sometimes so much better that it's frightening.

He's as hard as duranium at this point; his cock aches and he can feel every beat of his pulse along the whole damn length of it where it's pressed into the pillow under his hips, and she hasn't even gotten to the main event, yet. And tonight there _is_ a main event, one he's been anticipating all week, ever since she picked up on a stray thought and teased it out into the light and asked him honestly and he said _yes, god yes_ because he can't lie to her, especially not in bed, so now he's here and she's right _there_ and any minute now...

"Shhh." She rubs her palm gently up the curve of his spine. "Easy, imzadi. Just relax."

He takes a deep breath in, and nods into the pillow. He's relaxed: he's _very_ relaxed, in fact, couldn't get more relaxed, he's just a little...

 _Nervous_ , she says gently, with perfect understanding. He smiles - at her, though his head is down and from where she's kneeling behind him, she wouldn't see it anyway. That hardly matters.

"A little."

"That's okay." Her hand is warm, still now and resting on his lower back. He knows that she's nervous, too, confident and aroused but still a little worried she might do this wrong, because if there's one thing their relationship has taught her it's that theory and research are not the same as practical experience.

He reaches back for her other hand, feels her fingertips against his and smiles again at the gentleness in her touch. "You're gonna do great," he tells her, honestly. Even if it goes completely wrong and he can't walk for a week and they burn the damn thing and never try this again, that won't be what he remembers, in the end. It'll be that she loved him enough to want to do it, and that he loved her enough, trusted her enough, to want her to.

 _I want this to be good for you,_ she says, and he can feel how much she means that.

 _It's already amazing,_ he says, and it's true - if it weren't for her inside his head, he'd have come at least twice before this point, just from how thoroughly she's tried to prepare him. Deanna's studiousness carries over into sex with useful regularity and she's a _very_ good student.

 _All right; breathe for me,_ she says then, and then she's deeper in his mind, so deep, with him completely for that first moment of feeling her push in: thick and warm and hard and _so fucking good_ and he pushes back against her, needing more.

 _Oh, god, Deanna, please -_

Deanna smiles playfully, her own pleasure and his reflected back at him, making his head spin. _I thought you wanted to go slowly?_

He thought he did, too, until right now, until it felt this good. "No," he manages to get out, and he loves her for not even asking if he's sure, because she doesn't need to, to know: just one hard thrust and he loses what breath he had, gasps and swears because she's there, _right there_ , thick hard replicated cock all the way inside him. He can feel her thighs pressed against his ass, her small hands stroking his back and _her_ in his head, pleased and very much aroused and filling him the way no one else will ever be able to do.

"Oh..." There's a hint of surprise, even wonder in her voice; he can almost feel her toying with his pleasure, exploring it. "That feels good..."

He groans, grinning wildly into the pillow. "Oh, _yeah_." It does. It feels _incredible_.

Deanna laughs softly, pleased - and then she starts to move, fucking him slowly and carefully and _well_ , and _oh_ they are _definitely_ going to do this again _._

  


*

  


 **4.**

She's studied this, and intellectually - and personally, to some extent - she's understood the appeal. It's still very different to actually do it: to hear the sound of hard leather striking against skin, to feel the bite of pain and the burst of dark pleasure, to watch each faint red line start to rise across Will's back. It hurts, she can feel it hurting, but under the pain is a burning arousal that begs her to _please, oh god, yeah, more of that I want more of that feeling_ and that's all she's looking for.

She leans down and runs her hand through his hair. "Endorphins are a beautiful thing," she whispers into his ear. Will gasps at her breath on his skin, almost a laugh but too shaken, his love and trust and wonder spilling over into her mind like a hot, golden tide. She smiles and runs the tip of the crop very gently along that newest welt. _Do you want more?_

He sucks in a rough breath. _Deanna..._

She smiles, pressing into his mind, taking confidence from the way he feels, from his trust and need. _Tell me. Do you want more?_

 _I want_ and that's all he can put into words, at this point, but she knows. The physical pain is only half of what she can do for him.

He's already so close to that edge: she can feel it, and it takes her breath away that he trusts her with this, that all she needs to do is touch, so gently, give him that final push and he won't resist...

She scratches one fingernail down his spine, hard, crossing each welt and leaving another red trail behind that makes him sob into the pillow. He won't resist, but she needs to ask. _Will. Imzadi. Tell me. Do you want this?_

He shudders, without a word, and she has her answer. She reaches back down into that deep, private, need-filled place inside his mind, presses in so very gently and Will buries his face in the pillow and screams and everything loses focus and _god oh god_ _oh god oh_

 _Shhh, imzadi_

 _God, Deanna, Deanna_

 _That's it, shh, I'm here_

 _Please, please it's so, I need_

 _I know, I know, I know_

 _I can't -_

 _Shh, you can, that's it_ and she strokes his back, pressing harder, _you can, you can take it, slowly, that's it, just like that_ and then he's gone, shaking, _wrecked_ and flying, lost in how it feels because it's like he's never even _dreamed_ it could be, like being broken open from the inside and he doesn't care, he doesn't even _care_ , it doesn't matter, because it's Deanna, and Deanna will keep him safe whatever happens.

 _Oh, Will. Always._ She can't be anything but fierce, honest, her voice filled with love. _Always_.

  


*

  


 **5.**

The woman's name, it turns out later, is Larriva. She's blonde and slender and not much taller at all than Deanna, with smooth, forest-green skin under her short, white satin dress. She's very obviously not armed - no one but Security goes armed on Betazed, and she couldn't fit even a palm phaser anywhere into that dress - but she still moves like any Orion he's ever seen; confident, sensuous, and deadly.

 _She's very attractive._ Deanna's voice in his head is openly appraising. He sips at his Trakian ale, idly playing with her fingers on the bar table between them.

 _You think so?_

 _You do._

He grins. Anyone else would have shot the question right back at him. _Well, I'd have to be blind not to at least appreciate that body._ He looks at her a little closer, then, and gently nudges at the feeling - it's not quite a thought, not yet, but very close - he can feel lurking in the back of her mind. It comes into focus quicker than he expects - and then the image is there in his head, too, and _good god_ there's nothing in the galaxy that's going to get it out again.

Deanna stills his fingers by winding her own through them, swirling her drink carefully with the other hand. _It's just a thought._

He doesn't even hesitate. _It doesn't have to be._ She is gorgeous, sure, but he's already sitting with the most amazing woman in the room, and maybe it's his own hormones or the fact that he's hopelessly in love with her, but he can't imagine why anyone would turn Deanna down if she asked.

She smiles _you romantic, you_ at that and leans in to kiss him, tasting sharp and fruity and alcoholic from the _s'skesha_ in her glass, with the faintest hint of that ridiculously expensive chocolate she had for dessert earlier underneath. He nips playfully at her bottom lip; she retaliates with a soft hum before pulling back, looking him in the eyes.

 _You really wouldn't mind?_

He thinks about that honestly, because she'll know if he doesn't and she'll refuse to discuss it any further, which would be a damned shame all round. He _is_ a little surprised, he has to admit: though they're long over his indiscretion - all right, his attack of rampant stupidity - with Wendy Roper, and Deanna is definitely not shy about their sex life in any form it takes, he hasn't really entertained the thought that she might be okay with something like that... let alone that she might be excited by the idea.

 _Do I feel like I'd mind?_ In the end it's an honest question: having thought, he doesn't think he would, but he trusts her judgement on his feelings as much or better than his own.

 _No, you don't._ Deanna strokes her thumb across the back of his hand, looking back across the room. She's still there, green skin against white satin, sipping from a wine glass, leaning against the bar with one ankle crossed behind the other. _You find it very erotic, to imagine another woman in our bed._

 _So do you._

Deanna lifts her glass and looks into it speculatively. _I think I'm in need of another drink._

He laughs. When Deanna makes a decision, she's made it, and she doesn't waste time.

 _From what I know of Orion women,_ he thinks back to her, _neither one of us needs to play coy._ It only takes one swallow to drain the rest of his ale, and then he stands and pulls her up from the table. _Come on, imzadi, let's ask if she wants to play._

(It turns out that together, they'll agree later, they have remarkably good taste in women. Larriva is not only flattered by the attention and more than happy to come and play, she's also done this before, which turns out to be of unexpected but welcome help in trying to decide what goes where and when for the first time. And the second. And the third.)

  


*

  



End file.
